Never Let Go
by CLASSICDUH
Summary: Erik is left with his underground home in ruins and has to move on, even though he has no where else. He runs into someone he never expects later in life and, perhaps, never let's go.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, phans! I am sorry I have been conked out for so long and I decided that I had to redo this story. Now it will be a first person story, and you'll find out who's point of view it is. Anyhow, I hope you all have wonderful times this new year. Thank you all so much for being patient.**

_**Never Let Go ~ Chapter One**_

The catacombs were cold, as usual. Only the wet winter this year has left the air moist and crisp. A year without Christine. It's a wonder I am still alive.

As I journey towards the surface I can feel the wind brush against my eyes, the mask I had on still covering my face. It was black outside and the gutter rats were seen on the road picking up morsels from the trash. Every so often, a carriage would race by, and with it a society of rich folk dumped their garbage in the trash carriers. After they departed away, I swept myself up into the cloak and walked quietly down the road. These midnight walks were good for my head, but not for my body.

I haven't eaten in months and the toll was starting to dawn on me. I could see my ribcage, my bony fingers, and my slender legs. Each small part of my body could squeeze into children's clothing.

I went up to the surface many times to get food, but haven't had success. Not only was I feeding myself, but I had people who would steal my food. Consequently, I had to get plenty to feed everyone so I would still have a morsel. I could see the baker set out a woolen bag by his door and I rushed for the opportunity. Once he was inside, I grabbed the bag and ran towards the tunnels.

I could catch all of the faces gasp at the amount of food I had stolen, so I had to protect it. My place was in a little ditch beside the second opening, which conducted to another set of tunnels. I had rooted into the ditch, which was strewn with old blankets and sheets I'd collected. I spread out the wool pouch and grabbed out a piece of baguette, still fresh from the kitchen.

Not even thinking, I shoved the bread into my mouth with gratitude that I hadn't been seen again. Last time, when the gendarmes saw me, I had great issues trying to get away from them so they wouldn't approximate my hiding place. They disliked the catacombs and that worked to my advantage for once.

Once I had gotten my fill of bread, I pulled one of the tattered blankets over my body and tucked myself tightly. I lay awake, taking heed to the commotion of rustling people, squeaking rats, and pouring rain from outside. My filtration system kicked in and water trickled down into a wooden bowl I had found by the butcher shop about a week ago. I grabbed the bowl, got a drink, then set it under the trickling water.

After being fed and taking in a drink, I closed my eyes to think. What would Christine be doing at this moment? What kind of life is she living? Did she still having romantic feelings for me? I knew in my mind that the feelings she held for me were completely friendly, but sometimes they felt more. I breathed evenly, place my hands on my chest, and tried the best I could to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, again! Here is yet another chapter for this story Never Let Go.**

_**Chapter Two ~**_

The cool air entered my lungs and I could hear my heart skip a beat as I awoke. I looked towards my open arms and realized the bag of bread I had last night was gone. I knew it would happen, but it didn't matter too much. I had neither the energy nor the time to find out who did it.

I sat up, looking to my bowl water which was luckily filled to the brim. Looking westward, I could the beginning of sunrise and knew it was time to move down. At night, my place was in the ditch, but during the morning I had to get as far away from sunlight as possible so no one could see me. I could not risk getting caught again.

I first made sure that no one saw me, then skillfully hid the water under the blanket I slept in. I scratched my scalp, as best I could with the wig on that is, and moved towards the second level of catacombs. The people living on the second level were families, sadly, that were removed from their homes after debt. I knew how they felt, considered I never earned a fair living, and strange enough felt sympathy for these people.

I noticed the bag bread I stole last night, which was beside a family of five children and a single mother. I didn't bother to even think of taking it back, considering the children were very lovely and deserved the feast of bread. Good Lord, what has happened to me?! I have become gentle!?

I knew I should have never loved. It ruined my character badly and deep down, I knew I still thought this way for only Christine's sake. It's not worth it. She'll never love you back.

Even though the thoughts in my mind differed from how I truly felt about her, I knew my mind was always right. My mind never got me into trouble, the combination with a heart always pained me. Maybe, thinking back on it, mother was right. Maybe I am just a loathsome beast with no cause. Maybe I am just another wasteful being on this planet, just taking up space. Maybe...maybe.

But no, everyone has a purpose, right? Just like Christine used to say - You are in this world to keep someone happy. But who is that someone? Have I not found her? Have I not searched? I have no idea.

I walked towards my other ditch near the entrance of the third catacomb, which was filled with papers I had been writing on for the past month. I had a job application in Versailles, about forty-five minutes away from Paris, where I had to operate a construction agency. I was waiting for a confirmation to begin work, which I had filed about two months ago. This month, it was time to go back.

I heard shuffling amongst the crowd and saw a woman, very elegant in posture, in a black and white gown. I knew that gown anywhere - Madame Giry. She caught my eye and came towards my place with an even temper, "Finally found you. Ready to begin?"

"They accepted me?"

"Of course. They enjoyed your writing skills and thought you belonged somewhere else, but then they saw you had built the Garnier with Charles and they just absolutely fell in love with your work," I stood up, very proud of myself, "First, we should get you some clean clothes. I think I have just the thing at my house."

"Thank you, Madame."

"No problems."

I surrounded myself in the cloak so no one would recognize me, then Madame and I approached the surface. Sure, she had left me down here to survive, but I refuse to be a freeloader. I wanted to make my own living, bad or good, and now it was taking a huge leap for the better.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry, everyone. I have been extremely busy with school work and house preparations. I also know this chapter will be kinda short, but there will be longer ones in the future...I promise. Hope there is no hard feelings and hope you had wonderful holidays. **

_**Never Let Go ~**_

_**Chapter Three ~**_

Just as I had finished bathing and dressing at Madame Giry's, I heard her front door open and a low pitched voice follow, "Hello, Madame. Is Meg here?"

"I am afraid not. Would you like to sit down for some tea?"

"Oh, no thank. I just came to give her these," there was a rustle and then the front door closed.

I thought nothing of the man, hung up my towel, and exited the bathroom. I then noticed Meg come out of her room in a bright red dress, the color just begging for attention, and look at the roses in her mothers arms, "I thought I told you never to see that man again."

"Mother, I am a grown woman. I may see who ever I want."

"He is not good for you, Meg. He has been in far too much trouble!"

"Well what about him, mother!? He's been in so much trouble! Why should he be allowed to see Christine again?!"

My eyes widened, Christine? Last I heard she wanted nothing to do with me, "What is going on, Madame?"

"I'll explain later. In the meantime," she poked her head out the window, whistled, and then looked back to me, "your carriage awaits."

She opened the door and with a graceful bow, I stepped outside. Indeed there was a carriage outside with its door wide open. I inhaled the crisp winter air, adjusted my cravat, then stepped into the carriage. There was a woman inside already, who was gathering her belongings in order to get out, and the footman outside ushered her towards him.

The door shut and the carriage rolled along smoothly down the cobblestone road. I began to wonder about the fate of my interview; would I be accepted, is my employer kind to folks like myself, will I be payed adequately? All these questions filled my brain and also led me to doubt my chances of ever going forward in life.

The carriage had finally left Paris towards the west and I sighed, knowing my destination was soon ahead. I heaved in fresh air, something that was strangely new even though I had been on the surface for hours. I felt the cobblestone road smooth out, then the carriage stopped and my door opened.

I tipped my hat to the footman and paid him with ten francs before I entered the building that would allow me to establish a new life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Did you enjoy the last chapter? How about the ones before that? If so, please reply. I would love to hear from you.**

_**Never Let Go ~**_

_**Chapter Four ~**_

Inside the office, I saw two men sitting behind desks: An older gentleman with obvious experience and a man who appeared to be maybe thirty. The older gentleman addressed me warmly, "How might I help you, Monsieur?"

"I am here to see, erm," I take out the envelope from my pocket and even though the ink has rubbed a bit away, I can make out his name, "Monsieur Hawthorne?"

The old gentleman flips through a journal, running over words with his fingertips. I tapped against the backside of my watch, staring at the photograph of a nude woman on the wall. I turned my attention back to the gentleman after hearing him speak, "Ah, Monsieur Gautier?"

"Yes."

"Well thank Mary and Joseph you're here. Monsieur Hawthorne has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. He's down the left hall. There is a placard on his door."

I walk down the left hall, more paintings adorning the walls along with a few faux plants hanging from the ceiling. I can tell already that this man takes pleasure in decorating, which I do admire in anyone. Something in my mind assures me that this meeting will go well and sure enough I see M. Girard Hawthorne on a placard.

I knock, waiting patiently for a voice to assure my entrance, which eventually happens, "Come in."

I open the door to a fabulously adorned office. There is a giant glass vase in the corner containing bamboo sticks, a mahogany desk and waiting chair, and another provocative painting of a female. Hawthorne, sitting in a large armrest behind the desk, stares at me with a lavish, persian cat on his lap, "Ah, you must be Monsieur Gautier? I have heard wonderful things about you. Please, sit."

I sit on the mahogany chair, realizing there is a cushion of the same color on it. The cat on his lap climbs onto the desk and eagerly sniffs at my shoulder before rubbing its head there. Hawthorne starts going through a journal, occasionally looking at me as he does, "It says here you have practiced this trade in the Persian courts and the Garnier opera. True?"

"Yes."

"That is magnificent. I have been waiting for a man of your experience for many years. Sadly, though, we also need brute strength. How much weight can you carry?"

I shrug my shoulders, "As much as you need me too, I guess."

"Perfect," he grins, "I have been looking for an employee with your work ethic for years and have to find one but, Monsieur Gautier, you are truly an exception. Welcome to the corporate," he offers his hand, which is shrouded in scars from years of hard labor, "We are glad to have you."

I shake his hand with a firmness so that he won't doubt my working capabilities, but also with a gentleness to seem like I can be a good friend, "And I am glad to be of service," I slowly let go of his hand, making sure he has fully understood what I am capable of.

"All right, Monsieur. I did promise you a welcoming gift and here it is," he takes a small sac and sets it on the table, making a few 'clink' sounds as he did, "Seventy-five Francs. Do with it what you will."

I stare at the sac, my eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, "Monsieur, I really don't deserve-"

"Oh, don't be silly. You deserve that and more," he sits comfortably in his chair as I carefully handle the sac of Francs, "Now go on, Monsieur. I think you should start working tomorrow and you need all of the rest you can get."

In agreement, I bow with gratitude and walk calmly out of his office. The two clerks look at me once, nod, then sit down. I notice that the front door has been propped open and, without thinking, I end up stepping into the street, remembering that I also have fifty Francs in my pocket. 'So,' I end up thinking, 'I am in Versailles with one-hundred and twenty-five Francs. I can actually afford a small house. I can feed myself. I can afford the cost of living. I can be a normal person!'


End file.
